- Vol. 04
- Chapter 12
I walked down here, but you'll not see the tracks: the wind came and stole away my footprints, blew the dust off my memory of sex, tore my libido from out of its splints.
Here, where only the sun will know my name, I am not afraid to show her my thighs after years of avoiding tan, too shamed to drop towel and fawn under foreign skies.
Now, I am remembering fingertips tracing upwards, nails catching on tights, waiting for the weight of your eclipse to drown out all other worldly delights.
If I get too afraid of what I crave, I'll hide in the water under a wave.